It's Two AM, But You're Not Alone
by windscryer
Summary: Steve doesn't sleep much, but he eats a lot, and often, and the common living room—right next to the kitchen—really isn't the most private location for a brooding Tony Stark if he's not looking to talk. [Gen/Post-Avengers]


The posting fairy strikes again! Lucky for all of you. ;D

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It was two AM and Steve was in search of a snack to get him through until breakfast when he heard a sound that stopped him mid-step.

He frowned and turned toward the couch, the seeming source of the sound, but saw nothing capable of creating— There it was again.

He cautiously moved forward, stretching his neck to see over the back of the couch—then jumped back when a hand appeared and flopped back down again.

"Oh god, why am I such a fucking _idiot_?"

Steve straightened and said, "Tony?"

"_SHIT!"_ was the eloquent response, followed by the crash of Tony rolling off the couch and landing on the coffee table. Or, well, half on it, then proceeding to the floor with a further string of curses.

Steve stepped up to the back of the couch and leaned forward. "Are you okay?"

Tony rolled over, snarling, and said, "No, I am not—" He blinked, eyes scanning up and down, then swallowed visibly. "Are you naked?"

Steve frowned and looked down at his, admittedly bare, chest and pajama pants. "No?"

"Oh," Tony said, and pushed up to his feet in one smooth motion—that was then ruined when his ankle apparently couldn't hold his weight and he tumbled back down to the couch with more curses.

Steve leapt forward and grabbed him, helping him turn over onto his back. He slid his hand down Tony's leg to bring the limb up to where he could inspect the joint.

"Ow," Tony said, when Steve gently twisted and turned the foot. "Ow. Ow. Ow— OW!" Tony yanked his foot free, hissing, and pretzeled it up to where he could peer at it.

Of course, if was dark and Tony didn't have Steve's vision, so he gave up after a moment with a huff and said, "Because a broken ankle was really what I needed on top of everything else today." He scrubbed both hands over his face and sighed loudly.

Steve thought for a moment, then turned and went off to the kitchen.

When he returned a few minutes later Tony was still hiding his face under his hands and muttering angrily. Steve nudged the foot sticking off the cushion—not the injured one, that was elevated to balance on top of the couch back—and said, "Move over, this couch is big enough for the whole team, let alone the two of us."

Tony's hands rose up a few inches in surprise and he said, "You came back."

Steve gave Tony's leg a pointed look and it was moved as Tony swiveled up and around to sit properly, hissing again when he bumped his bad ankle on the coffee table once more.

"Of course I came back. I brought you something too," he said, and sat, then set the tray he'd been holding on the table. He picked up the ice pack, gave it a quick twist and shake, then handed it to Tony.

"What is this for?" Tony said, even as he took it.

"Your ankle?"

Tony looked down at his foot, lifted it slightly, then said, "Oh. Right. I… I knew that." He gingerly balanced the ice on the arch of his foot and then lifted it up to rest next to the tray. Which drew his attention over.

"What else you got there?" he asked in the worst parody of innocent inquiry Steve had ever heard.

Steve smiled for the attempt and lifted a mug, dropping a single large marshmallow in it.

"Dear God, did you stop an apocalypse in the kitchen while I was whining about my life? Are Harold Ramis, Bill Murray, and Dan Aykroyd in there making smores?"

Steve arched an eyebrow and Tony flopped back—carefully—and said, "Oh my god, we have to fix this. Now. Seriously. JARVIS, Ghostbusters."

The television turned on and after a moment the darkness gave way to the studio card, but Steve was still watching Tony. He picked up two of the cookies he'd scrounged and offered one. Tony took them both.

"Thanks," he mumbled, then sipped the cocoa, the giant marshmallow bumping his nose. "I didn't know they made them this big or that we had them in the kitchen. I need to get out of my shop more."

"That would be nice," Steve agreed and Tony's eyes flicked his way.

He stuffed an entire cookie in his mouth and watched Steve in small glances as he tried to pretend he was watching the movie.

When it was gone and he'd washed it down with more cocoa, he said, "So I'm hoping your super ears aren't so keen that they could hear my bitchy muttering all the way from four floors down."

Steve chuckled and swallowed his own bite of cookie. "No. I came up here for a snack and heard you as I was walking to the kitchen."

"In the dark like a creeper," Tony agreed. "What's up with that?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't need the lights to see and it doesn't make sense to waste the electricity."

"Mhm," Tony said. "Of course. That makes perfect sense. If only someone had invented a self-sustaining, nearly limitless power source and stuck it in the basement."

Steve rolled his eyes, but Tony had a point. "Force of habit?"

"It only takes twenty-one days to break a habit, so they say. You were asleep for seventy years."

Steve gave an exasperated huff and said, "I don't know, then, I just don't think about it. Why turn on the lights when I don't need them?"

Tony turned to face Steve. "So as to avoid startling your teammate and oh-so-gracious landlord and making them accidentally maim themselves. For one." Tony sipped his cocoa, but Steve could see the spark of amusement in the flickering lights of the movie they were both sort of ignoring.

"You know, if you'd had the lights on already it wouldn't have been an issue because I'd have known you were there."

"Don't be ridiculous, brooding with the lights on doesn't even make sense."

Steve snagged another handful of cookies, but this time made sure to keep a firm grasp on half of them. Tony tried to wrestle them away regardless, and ended up breaking one and scattering crumbs everywhere.

"Oh, now look what you did," Tony said.

Steve shook his head and said, "The roombas will appreciate it. I'd rather discuss what has you brooding at two AM."

Tony gave him a half-hearted glare and poked the broken cookie at him. "No. We are not going there."

Steve settled back into the corner of the couch and took a sip of cocoa.

"No," Tony said, waving the cookie until a larger chunk broke off and flew out into the open floor. They both watched it fly, and then Tony stuffed the rest in his mouth like a chipmunk preparing for winter. Which meant that the next shower of crumbs came with a light coating of drool. "No, no, no, no, no. And also? No."

Steve dipped a cookie and held it, eyes remaining locked on Tony.

Tony turned toward the movie and watched it for all of thirty seconds before turning back.

"Okay, you know what your problem is?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in clear invitation.

"You're too earnest. And your cocoa needs more Irish."

Tony got up and started to hobble past, no doubt intending to fix that second problem, but Steve grasped his wrist on the way past and held on tight. Tony actually walked to the end of his arm before momentum swung him back around.

"Let go."

"Not until you tell me why you need to ruin perfectly good cocoa with whiskey."

"Not possible. It's whiskey. It can only improve the cocoa experience. Let me show you."

He tried to keep going, but Steve tightened his fingers around the thin wrist and Tony said, "Goddammit, Steve," his lip curling up as he yanked vainly on his arm.

"Tony," Steve said.

Tony gave up and deflated. "I'm not going to get out of this, am I?"

"No."

"Ugh. Next time I'm brooding in the privacy of my own room."

"Probably a better choice if you want to be left alone, but if we're taking a poll, it's not my preference."

Tony sighed again and then stared down at their joined hands.

Steve's cheeks heated, but Tony wouldn't be able to see it in the dark.

"If I give you my solemn word that I'll return, can I go get that whiskey?"

"I'll come with you," Steve said, and rose. He did let go, though, because on his best day Tony couldn't outrun him without at least the armor's boots on and even though it looked like his ankle was only bruised, he'd rather not find out it wasn't after Tony brained himself on the bar or something.

"Augh!" Tony said, throwing up his empty hand in frustration. "Fine! Whatever!"

Tony was liberal with the whiskey, and offered Steve some, but Steve shook his head and covered his mug. He wasn't interested anyway, but certainly not in the proportions Tony was offering.

Tony replaced the cap and put the bottle away, then returned and leaned on the counter between them, taking his weight off of his ankle.

"Do you ever wonder how you got here?"

Steve arched an eyebrow because that was a very loaded question.

"I mean," Tony said, waving a hand, "not here on Earth or here in the future, I'm fairly certain that you know both of those things." Then he paused. "You do know where babies come from, right?"

"Probably better than you do," Steve said levelly, "unless you've also delivered twins in a trench in France?"

Tony's next glib comment died on his tongue and he snapped his mouth shut, then said, "Seriously?"

Steve sipped his cocoa.

"Anyway. Disturbing mental images aside, I mean, like, here. In the Tower. With … everything that entails."

"How we became Avengers, you mean?" Steve said.

"Yes. Sort of. I mean, not…" Tony sighed and wiped a hand over his face, then back up to roughly scrub at his scalp. "Okay giving up on that tactic. I'm just going to say it straight. Because if I can't do that, then my problem is probably worse than I imagined and, really," he gave a mirthless chuckle, "it can't get much worse. At least I hope not. God," he said absently. "How terrible would it be if it was worse than this? I mean, what would that even look like—"

"Tony," Steve said with no little amusement.

Tony turned to look at him, vague surprise at seeing he wasn't alone on his face.

"You were going to be direct and tell me what your problem was."

Tony rapidly blinked and Steve couldn't help but think of JARVIS coming online after a major hit, the way the screens would flicker before they steadied. "Right. Okay."

He took a long sip and Steve raised his eyebrows. "Or not?"

"Sorry. I'm…" Tony waved a hand then sighed and let his head drop to hang from his shoulders. It stayed there a moment, then abruptly came back up and Tony said, "You're all still here."

Steve tilted his head and considered. "We are. Are we not supposed to be? Because Pepper said that the leases—"

Tony waved that off, "No, of course you are. And it's not really a lease so much as a gift. You, legally speaking, own your floor in the building. And sort of share it for some of the others. The common ones. The gym, you know. This one. No, I'm talking about you guys not," he waved a hand and it was probably supposed to communicate something, but Steve didn't quite catch what that was. "You know."

"I'm afraid I don't. Can we try you saying it straight again?"

Tony made a sound that could have been amusement or frustration or both.

"People don't stay," he finally said, and it was not just a statement, but a fact, like the sky is blue or Steve was strong or Tony was a genius.

"Don't stay…" Steve said, though, because he felt like he was still missing something.

"With me!" Tony said. "People don't stay with me."

Steve frowned. "Pepper and Rhodey—"

"Outliers," Tony said dismissively. "And, not to cheapen our friendships or anything, although it is a skill of mine, but they both get something else out of it all. Pepper is my CEO. She started in the accounting department of Stark Industries and now she's running it. I'm not complaining, mind you," Tony said, holding up a hand. "I don't think it was all some grand scheme of hers, but that doesn't make it any less true that going away would require at the very least a new job, if not a whole new career. And Rhodey gets, well," he ticked them off on his fingers, "the War Machine armor, his position with the Air Force as SI liaison, and free booze when he comes to town. Again, I don't think that was his plan to begin with, but they're all good reasons to stay even if it means dealing with me. But you guys…" He shrugged. "What do you get? A place to live rent free? I think you'd probably get that anyway, since S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't going to let you guys be homeless. That's just bad PR."

"Tony," Steve said, but the engineer was on a roll now.

"All the food you can eat? S.H.I.E.L.D.'s also not gonna let you starve. Cool toys? Maybe a step down in the quality a bit, but with Stark Industries out of the weapons game, S.H.I.E.L.D. has to have another supplier. That wouldn't even change since I don't exactly make your gun or Tasha's little taser hockey pucks. You're not here for the scintillating conversation or the occasionally toxic smoothies DUM-E makes, so, really, why are any of you still here?"

Steve goggled for a moment, trying to find something—_anything_—to say, and all that came out was, "Because we're a team!"

Tony's smile became a smirk, sharp and knowing. "Ah yes. The 'we're a team' card. Yeah, I did think that you might say that, although, let's be honest, a team, by the very nature of the word, means multiple people working together. You, Clint, Tasha, Bruce, and Thor are multiple people and if you worked together, well, hey! You're a team. I am not necessary to qualify you for team status."

Steve's lips pressed together as the anger started to rise. "You are necessary, Tony."

"No, I'm not. It's okay," he said, to the scowl forming on Steve's face. "I get it. I'm not insulted."

"But you are. If we told you tomorrow to pack it up and move out because we didn't need you, you'd be insulted."

Something flashed over Tony's face, to quick to see, as he froze, then he shrugged one shoulder. "The word you're looking for is vindicated. Because you'd prove me right that I'm not necessary. Or maybe you mean 'insult_ing_', because I'm petty enough to leave you with a few sharp quips. I'm not always proud of it, but I can admit it."

And Steve could see that, the way Tony was already preparing himself, working on pulling back and taking little jabs here and there as prelude to unleashing the full force of his sarcasm so that even if he walked away hurt, he wouldn't be the only one.

"Tony," Steve said again. "We're still here because we _want_ to be here."

Tony's smirk curved higher and he said, "Really? You _want_ to be here?"

"Yes," Steve said, tone implacable. "We do. You're right, any of us could have left at any point. In fact, unless I'm mistaken, we all _have_ left at one point or another for a mission or to go see an old friend or just on a vacation. And yet, as you pointed out, we're all still here. Because we _came back_. We have left you, Tony, just like you said, but we didn't stay away because we didn't want to. We wanted to be here."

"Because the team—" Tony said.

"Because the team is here. And that team includes you, Tony." Steve snorted. "As you said, we could relocate at any time. I'm sure Fury could find a room or two on the Helicarrier or maybe just let us find our own apartments and have us commute like normal people do. But we're not normal, Tony. No one in this building is normal, and _that_ is something that you do give us."

"I… normal? I give you normal?"

"In a way, yeah," Steve said. "Or at least you give us a place where we can be ourselves and not be stared at. We're all special here, Tony, and that means that in this building of super heroes, we're all just one of the crowd. It's…" Steve sighed appreciatively. "Liberating."

Tony stared for a long moment, then leaned forward to peer into Steve's mug. "What did you add to your cocoa before you brought it out?"

Steve laughed. "Nothing I didn't also add to yours."

Tony looked down at his mug and stared at it for a good long while. Steve waited patiently, sipping his cocoa and dunking the marshmallow with a finger.

"Okay," Tony said finally and drained his mug, then set it in the sink. "Come on. We'll have JARVIS restart the movie."

"That's it?" Steve said, also draining his cup and tucking on the squishy remains of his marshmallow into his cheek to suck on.

Tony shrugged. "Yeah. For now anyway. I can be a real stubborn bastard, for all that I'm a genius, so it probably won't stick right away, but… sure. Why not." He smiled brightly and then turned and headed back to the couch, directing JARVIS to rewind to the beginning.

Steve sighed, then shook his head ruefully. Well at least there was hope. If Pepper and Rhodey were any indication, it might take a very long time indeed, but Steve had learned a thing or two about patience in his life, so he figured he was up to the challenge.

He followed Tony and sat on the couch, then reached over and tugged the other man over and down, ignoring the squawked protests and pinning Tony under a hand on his shoulder, Tony's head resting on his thigh.

"Is this going to be a thing? Some kind of cuddle therapy? I said okay to being your teammate, but I'm not interested in being your sub—"

"Tony, shut up. JARVIS, start the movie."

Tony did, eventually, settle down, and he even relaxed by the time they were in the courtroom. He was asleep by the time the doorway opened and Steve chuckled when the giant marshmallow man appeared on the screen, pleased that from now on he'd get that reference.

He stayed awake until the credits rolled, but just told JARVIS to turn it off and made no move to rise or free himself from the warm weight of Tony against his thigh.

He thought about moving, easing free and leaving Tony to sleep, but it wasn't like he'd been doing much of that in his own bed and here and now he was actually feeling kind of sleepy.

He thought a moment more then stretched just enough to get the afghan from the back of the couch and flip it down over the lightly snoring genius.

His things might be down on the floor Tony had built for him, but home was right here.

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